


In a City That Never Sleeps

by Papillonae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dancing and Singing, Drabble, Drunk Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Frank Sinatra is the Man, M/M, Songfic, THREE GUESSES WHICH SONG THIS IS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Drabble. Alfred and Toris take the scenic route home, singing and dancing the whole way.





	In a City That Never Sleeps

The pavement, wet with oil and rain, reflected the fluorescent lights shining from Times Square. Billboards flashed and dazzled above the city streets, a hazy fog billowed out from the sewers. In the crisp night air, people milled about, some arm in arm, hustling home on subway trains and in taxi cabs.

Alfred had insisted on the scenic route through Central Park; he stumbled over his own two feet the whole way, laughing at every little thing as he clung to Toris for balance. It wasn’t Toris’s idea of a bad night – though he wished it had ended with three less Manhattans at the bar, he found his head buzzing in just the right way that he didn’t think on it too long.

“Al, you’re getting worse at holding your liquor,” he chuckled, shifting his weight a little more.

“And you’re gettin’ worse at havin’ a good time,” Alfred countered, his glasses askew. “Relaaax, I know these streets like the back of my hand!”

He realized something, then turned to look up at Toris. “I mean… they _are_ the back of my hand!”

This brought out another gut-busting laugh from him and he pulled himself closer, hiding his mouth in Toris’s shoulder.

Toris was nearly knocked over by this, but he laughed through it. “Wait, you think I’m not having a good time?” he asked with a voice that mocked insult, “need I remind you that I’m _older_ than you?”

“Yeah – an’ that makes it hard for you to have a good time!”

Alfred snickered as Toris shoved him off his shoulder. “Aha! But you’ve still got some fight in you, ol’ man! Come on, I’ll take ya.” He put up his fists, teetering on the balls of his feet.

“Really.” Toris looked at him flatly, then came up and supported him. Alfred tried to land a few playful blows, but ended up collapsing in the gravel-laden path instead. He howled with laughter then, dragging Toris down with him.

The laughter proved infectious. Still in the hazy warmth of drink himself, Toris shushed him between laughter, slowly rising back up to his feet, his knees still stinging from the fall.

“Al, you’re gonna get us in trouble,” he whispered, offering his hand to pull him up.

“Why’re you whispering so much?” Alfred asked loudly as he was pulled to his feet, “we’re in New York - _fucking_ \- New York! No one can hear us anyways!”

It was true, of course: the night life of the city had been saturated in the constant drone of car horns and mechanics. All sorts of street musicians played in every direction – from the makeshift tub drums on the streets, to the guitarists and the saxophone players, all of their melodies adding to the sweet cacophony.

And yet there was a charm to it, wasn’t there? Toris smiled in the twinkling of the lights that had been wrapped around the trees lining the path, taking a moment to let it all sink in. He had been down these streets back in the 20’s, during a time when everything was young and new and strangely hopeful. It still felt that way, even after all those years.

Almost as if on cue, Alfred began to loudly sing along to a familiar tune: “ _DUN! DUN! Dun-na-na-na DUN! DUN! dun-na-na-na…_ ”

He began to walk a showman’s strut with as much coordination as he could muster.

Toris clutched his sides with laughter as Alfred, still singing, hopped up onto a lamp post and swung along the side. He held his hand out to Toris in invitation as he sang the lyrics loud and slightly off-key:

_“Start spreadin’ the news, I’m leavin’ today…_

_I want to be a part of it –_

_New York, New York!”_

Toris declined his hand, and instead continued to walk along the path, an artful skip in his step as he sang back:

_“These vagabond shoes are longing to stray_

_Right through the very heart of it –“_

Alfred hopped down and joined him:

_“New York, New York!”_

Toris felt the heavy sling of Alfred’s arm around his shoulders, their cheeks pressed together in the evening chill as he sang and gestured toward the city lights:

_“I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps…”_

Then he broke away and ran up ahead, jumping up and clicking his heels together. Toris attempted to sing the next verse through laughter, though Alfred beat him to the punch and began the reprise instead:

_“And find I’m a Number One, Top of the List—”_

_“King of the Hill!”_ Toris sang back, running up to support Alfred as he stretched his arms up, open palms out to the sky as he made deliberate strides, singing loud and dramatically:

_“A Number One!”_

The two of them looked at each other – with a mutual nod, they both wrapped an arm around each other’s waists and sang boisterously together, their faces red with laughter and the cold of the night’s chill:

_“These little town blues…”_

Then they pressed forward dramatically, dancing a disorganized can-can as they went:

_“Are melting away,_

_I’m gonna make a brand new start of it –_

_In ol’ New York!”_

They cycled their steps back dramatically, stepping together to the rhythm of the imaginary brass band in their heads. Toris sang the brass section as Alfred fell dramatically to his knees and growled into an imaginary microphone:

_“And if I can make it there, I’m gonna make it anywhere!”_

Toris was practically weeping with hilarity. He offered his hand, and Alfred took it energetically, hopping back up to his feet as they both sang the finale:

_“It’s up to you – New York – New Yoooooork!”_

They kicked their legs up high, their movements hilariously precise. Upon the last iteration of the line, Alfred wrapped both of his arms around Toris and leveraged him high off the ground, spinning him.

In the exhilaration of it all, Toris held up his hands to the sky and sang out the last note until his lungs burned with the crisp autumn air.

Then he looked down at Alfred, who looked up at him as if he were the Statue of Liberty herself.

“Put me down,” he chuckled, feeling foolish.

“You havin’ a good time now, old man?” Alfred asked slyly.

Toris rolled his eyes. “It’s not hard when you’re acting like a fool.”

“Well, I’m glad to be a fool for you!” he declared loudly, as if it were an honor.

“Just put me down, Al,” Toris laughed in hushed tones, and he was gently lowered.

The moment his feet touched the ground, Alfred had seized the chance to kiss him with a much fervor as he had when singing. They rocked together in a teetering embrace, still chuckling in spite of themselves.

“Let’s get you home,” Toris said, moving them both in sway toward the park’s exit.

“But I am home,” Alfred mumbled sweetly into the softness of his hair, but nonetheless let himself be led toward the city’s streets.


End file.
